


Alpha's Come A-Courtin'

by Tahlruil



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Fluff, Getting Together, How Do I Tag, M/M, Mates, Peter Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Steter Secret Santa 2019, Werewolf Courting, courting gifts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21895108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tahlruil/pseuds/Tahlruil
Summary: "Kiddo. You've been making eyes at that man since you were 17 - used to make me want to reach for my gun, to tell you the truth. I may have hoped for Lydia, but I always knew Peter was a possibility. At least you got through college first."The pride in his dad's voice made him puff out his chest. Maybe he'd only been able to stand going for two years, but he'd nearly killed himself to get his BA in Social and Criminal Justice as quickly as fucking possible. The Nemeton and his dad had been lures too strong to ignore... which was another reason why he and Lydia wouldn't work anymore. He wanted,neededto be in Beacon Hills, and she was ready to move on to the larger world beyond that. She'd nearly clawed out his eyes when she found out he was 'limiting himself'. Come to think of it, shit like that might be why his wolf disliked her so damn much."He'll be a good mate. If he says yes."
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 55
Kudos: 2066
Collections: Steter Secret Santa 2019





	Alpha's Come A-Courtin'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [platypusesrneat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/platypusesrneat/gifts).



> Here's my Steter Secret Santa gift for platypusesrneat. <3 Hope you enjoy it!

"So."

Stiles' shoulders immediately hunched up to his ears when his dad's voice broke his concentration. It had nothing to do with the deep slice he'd delivered to his thumb - which was healing almost before the pain could set in - and everything to do with the knowing amusement he could hear. Answering would only have encouraged the man, so he ignored his dad as much as he possibly could. His work needed all of his attention anyway. Otherwise he was likely to take off a hand; even as an Alpha he couldn't heal _that_ much damage. Probably.

Maybe? He wasn't quite sure of all his new wolfy powers yet. He'd have to ask Peter.

Fuck. That was exactly the kind of thought he didn't need to have in front of his dad. Now his ears were heating up and so were his cheeks. He tried to turtle away and hide the evidence, but he could fucking feel his dad start to grin. Even if he was giving himself away he still didn't look up. This had to be _perfect_.

"Scott gave me a book today." Of course he did. Fucking traitor. "Thick one too. Probably would have ignored it if I'd had to dig into it on my own. Thankfully there was a bookmark." His dad paused, and Stiles' newly sensitive ears heard the moment the man rubbed his hand over his mouth, probably in an attempt to hide just how funny he found it all. "Some of those arrow Post It's too. And highlighting. He was real keen on me finding the right section."

"Scott doesn't know what he's fucking talking about." Thank fuck he wasn't growling the words. It was... uncomfortable, the way the restless, pacing animal in the back of his mind hated his best friend. He was hoping that would eventually fade, though he suspected it wouldn't. They wouldn't be able to live in the same territory, not with how different they were. Not with everything that had happened after Stiles had been Bitten. Hopefully it would only be a matter of time before Scott abandoned the territory for somewhere less Hellmouth-y. He could bide his time until then, could lay claim to his territory and his people _after_ Scott was gone and he wouldn't have to kill for it.

It was unsettling to know that he _would_ kill Scott for it, however reluctantly.

His dad snorted, then settled in beside him. The closeness was great - he knew he was starving himself of contact, but he wouldn't, _couldn't_ snuggle with a rival Alpha or his puppies - and he finally stilled his hands so he could burrow into his dad's side. The Sheriff immediately swung an arm over his shoulders, leaning down to peer at his handiwork without doing him the dishonor of touching it.

"I think he knows a little bit," was the dry answer he got. "I just think maybe it isn't really the problem he's decided it is."

"... yeah?"

"Don't get me wrong - this isn't the way I saw your life going. Always thought you'd settle down with Lydia or someone like her." So had he, until a wolf surfaced beneath his skin and could hardly tolerate the Banshee's scent. "I pictured you running off to take over the world, maybe giving me some grandkids eventually. This isn't..." It wasn't The Plan, not even close. But different didn't have to mean bad, and he desperately wanted his dad to understand that. "He's not a good man, but I think he might be the right one."

Relief swept through him on a tide of love, and he buried himself closer to his dad. His dad, who hadn't given up on him even when everyone else would have understood, who had calmly accepted Stiles' new status without batting an eye at the scenting or cuddling or flashing eyes. Who had threatened to shoot Scott - _Scott_ , who had long been the son Sheriff Stilinski wished he'd had - if the True Alpha didn't get the fuck off his lawn and stop making noise about Stiles giving up his new Alpha Spark. His dad, who was now prepared to quietly accept Stiles' chosen mate into the fold because he knew there was no one else it could be.

Stiles had always been fascinated by dangerous things, and they didn't come much more dangerous than Peter Hale. If he'd stayed human, if he'd gotten away from Beacon Hills, if, if, if, if, if... someone less terrifying, less intense, less murder-y, less _Peter_ would have been enough. Now? Now he thought his heart might crack open and cause him to quietly bleed to death if his wolf told him 'no'.

This had to be perfect.

"He could be good," he argued for argument's sake. His dad knew it too, going by the snort he let out. "He just... he doesn't give enough of a fuck to try. I wouldn't... if he wasn't..."

"I know."

"He's--"

"Kiddo. You've been making eyes at that man since you were 17 - used to make me want to reach for my gun, to tell you the truth. I may have hoped for Lydia, but I always knew Peter was a possibility. At least you got through college first."

The pride in his dad's voice made him puff out his chest. Maybe he'd only been able to stand going for two years, but he'd nearly killed himself to get his BA in Social and Criminal Justice as quickly as fucking possible. The Nemeton and his dad had been lures too strong to ignore... which was another reason why he and Lydia wouldn't work anymore. He wanted, _needed_ to be in Beacon Hills, and she was ready to move on to the larger world beyond that. She'd nearly clawed out his eyes when she found out he was 'limiting himself'. Come to think of it, shit like that might be why his wolf disliked her so damn much.

"He'll be a good mate. If he says yes."

"He's going to say yes." Stiles shrugged and let his lips purse out in judgement as he scanned his work. His dad sighed heavily, gave his shoulders a long squeeze, then reached down to pick up the knife he'd been working on for the past two weeks. The handle was bone - he'd hunted the bear himself, which had taken a number of days all on its own. He hadn't had time to clean and cure the bone naturally though, so he'd had to go another route. Maybe using the Nemeton and it's connection with nature to help was cheating, but Stiles didn't think so. The insects he'd called forth had stripped the jawbone clean much better and quicker than he could have done, and the tree had been pleased with the offering of the rest of the bear to boot. Win-win. If anything, it was a show of all the resources at his disposal. Peter appreciated resourcefulness.

Getting the actual blade had been trickier. While the Nemeton and its insects cleaned the bone, he'd gone and done a few errands for a coven he'd met while in college. For his trouble harvesting ingredients and getting rid of a few pesky pixies - _fucking pixies_ \- they had been happy to secure what he needed. The rune work and other scrolling was all done by his own hands... and wasn't even close to being done yet. He'd ruined several practice pieces trying to get the hang of it, and part of him was constantly cursing himself for picking this particular gift as a start to their potential courtship. It would have been much, much easier to just dump a deer on Peter's doorstep and call it a day.

Neither of them was really a fan of easy though. Not when it came to things like this.

"First of all," his dad said gently, interrupting his thoughts once more. "This knife is already a damned thing of beauty. When you finish it, it's going to be stunning. The effort you put in is a huge sign of regard for him, isn't it? That book mentioned that. You learned whole new crafts for him, Stiles. He'd better be suitably impressed or I'll be tempted to flex some of my own muscle in the proceedings."

"Daaaad."

"And another thing - Peter's been watching you just as long as you've been watching him. He's going to say yes."

"He watched me when I was a human Beta," Stiles pointed out while doing his best not to feel miserable. "And when they thought I might be a real Spark. Now that I'm an Alpha things are going to be different. Complicated."

His dad made a noncommittal noise that could have meant anything, inspecting the half-done knife a moment longer before clapping him on the shoulder. "Saved your ass the other day, didn't he?"

"Fucked off immediately after, didn't he?" He sort of wished that had come out bitter instead of needy as fuck, but whatever. It was his dad - guy would have known the truth anyway.

"Left you a present though." It was interesting how his dad called a bleeding, hog-tied Deucalion a 'present'. Once the good old Sheriff would have heartily disapproved of murder, even when it came to scumbag assholes like the so-called 'Demon Wolf'. Though it had probably become a little morally acceptable when he realized the bound werewolf had been the one to bite Stiles in the first place despite Scott's label of 'completely and totally reformed'. His dad had refused to be in the house when Stiles took the Alpha spark, but he sure as shit hadn't protested.

"Okay, yeah. Maybe."

"Didn't even kill the guy himself - made sure you could do it so you became an Alpha."

"Yeah."

"He put a bow around the man's neck, Stiles."

"Peter's a classy dude."

"So classy." The agreement sounded a lot like sarcasm, but hey. He'd take it. "So maybe you're right and things are 'complicated', whatever the hell that means. I still feel like I can stand by my initial assessment of the situation."

"I should be building a pack, not--"

"Mate's part of a pack, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Pretty important part at that."

"Definitely right up there, yeah."

"And it's what you're set on. You might be a werewolf now, kiddo, but I still know you. This is the thing that's got your attention right now. You're not gonna be able to settle or focus on any other damn thing until you know either way. So don't think about what other people say you 'should' be doing. I'm glad Scott brought the book so that I understand what the hell you are doing, but otherwise? I trust you kiddo. You're doing what's right for you and our pack."

"Our pack?" There was a smile trying to crawl over his lips but he forced it back. He didn't want to get too excited until he knew for sure that his dad meant it.

"Heck yes. Us Stilinskis have to stick together."

"Thanks pops, that means a lot. Really brings a tear to the eye," he added because Stilinski men were allergic to emotional scenes. Things were about to get real awkward unless he put a stop to it. "Now get outta here so I can finish my courting gift."

"Yeah yeah. I'll go brace myself to welcome my new son-in-law to the family. Just... do me a favor and give him the fancy knife at his place, okay? I have a feeling he's going to be pretty enthusiastic about his reply and, well... Some things a father doesn't need to hear."

"Oh my God. Peter wouldn't... we're not going to... stop laughing! I do not appreciate being made a mockery of, so quit laughing and get out!" While his dad did indeed leave the room, Stiles could hear him laughing all the way down the hall. Whatever. He knew he was right - no way was Peter going to sex him up over the knife. It'd probably take until the fifth or sixth gift before that happened, and that was only if his wolf didn't dismiss this one out of hand.

"Nope. No. Positive thoughts only! Peter's gonna love the knife and he's going to say yes, and that's just that. So think happy thoughts and get it done Stiles. You can do this." The little pep talk lifted his spirits enough to let him get back to work. He knew the confidence wouldn't last long, but that was alright. All he needed to do was keep his nose to the grindstone and get it done - he could fall apart from nerves afterward.

First he was going to make a fancy knife and hope it was enough to land him a mate.

~.~.~

Once the knife was done Stiles had been ready to fly out the door and find Peter immediately. His dad had snagged him by the waist and hauled him up the stairs instead. It never occurred to him to use his new strength to get out of the hold - he'd never use it against his dad. He'd sort-of struggled all the way to the bathroom, where his dad had unceremoniously dumped him into the shower and turned on the water. While he'd cussed up a blue streak at how damn cold it was, he had also gotten the point.

It had been... three days without a shower? Four? Fuck, he was ripe to his own nose once he thought to engage his senses enough to smell it. Peter would have been absolutely disgusted. Muttering at his own idiocy, he took the time to wash thoroughly because he was not going to lose out on a mate on account of being smelly. Absolutely fucking not. Most of the soap they had accumulated over the past few months made his nose twitch with a constant need to sneeze, but thankfully he'd washed up at Peter's place enough over the years to have memorized the products he used. It was nearly scentless, and what little smell there was didn't offend his super-senses. There was just enough of one that it reminded him of _Peter_ , which made showers extra-interesting sometimes.

The fact that he smelled just a little like Peter didn't hurt either. It made the possessive part of him that howled 'mate' calm down and nearly purr with pleasure.

While he was washing up and trying valiantly to ignore his hard-on, he realized that his stomach was growling pretty insistently. His last meal was a distant memory, and hey! Apparently being a werewolf and an Alpha wouldn't keep him from hyperfocusing, so that was good to know. God, if his dad hadn't stopped him he would have gunned it to Peter's place and probably passed out on his doorstep which would be the least impressive thing ever. Thank fuck for his dad, who had also managed to pluck his fancy knife away to keep the leather sheath from getting saturated.

By the time he was dried off and dressed, there was an absolutely delicious smell coming up the stairs. His dad was a saint, clearly, who he did not appreciate nearly enough. To try and change that he tackled his dad with a hug immediately on seeing him and buried his face in the man's neck. He'd always liked the way his dad smelled - after his mom died there had been a period of time when he lived in his dad's shirts just to have a piece of him always close by. Now that his nose was amped up by a million? It was bliss.

Or it would have been, if only his dad smelled a little bit more like him. Thankfully the way he began aggressively scenting his dad didn't seem to faze him which was nice. He just let Stiles do his thing for a while before gently herding him towards the table. What he'd made wasn't anything fancy, just some of the chili from the freezer that he himself had made before he'd settled in to make his courting gift. It was absolutely perfect for what he needed, and he wolfed it down as fast as he could without choking.

"Don't suppose I could convince you to wait until you've had some sleep, huh son?"

"Nope. I've gelled my hair and gussied up my clothes, so I'm a go, daddy-o. I just... I need to know. You know? I won't sleep anyways until I do, so it's best to just get it over with. Like ripping off a bandaid, only more terrifying and life-altering, so not really a bandaid at all."

"You're going to talk yourself into a panic attack, kiddo. Take a deep breath." His dad had a point, and he'd done it before. It would be stupid to assume he couldn't have panic attacks now that he was an Alpha. He couldn't imagine that Derek had gotten through it all without having a few breakdowns, and there was no way he was tougher than Sourwolf.

Who he needed to call soon to ask if he'd be willing to come back to Beacon Hills to be his Beta. Well, first he'd have to explain the whole getting Bitten thing, which would be just so much fun. Once the yelling and scolding was out of the way he could bring up the idea of being a pack. Dude deserved one after all the shit he'd been through; Stiles was pretty sure he could put one together that would be good for Sourwolf.

Fuck, he hoped Peter would be right there with him, helping him lead it. It would be pretty damn awkward to call it the Hale Pack without a Hale at his side.

"Kiddo, that spoon never did anything to you, so if you could maybe stop mangling it that would be nice." When he looked down at his hands, sure enough he had twisted his poor spoon into something that resembled a shitty modern 'sculpture'. He felt his cheeks heat as he dropped the thing to the table and hid his face in his hands. His dad was laughing at him again, which was just really fucking unfair. "Sorry, sorry." The smile on his dad's face was warm and full of enough love to make him squirm in his seat. "You look a little less like you're going to fall over - go get your man, alright? You're not going to calm down until you have an answer. Though I'm not sure about you driving. You good, or do you want a lift?"

"I'm fine. Peter doesn't live too far away, and I'm running on an adrenaline high so it's not like I'm going to fall asleep at the wheel."

"That's less reassuring than you think it is."

"Point is that I'm fine. Thanks for keeping me from heading to Peter's smelling like the boy's locker room did in high school."

"That's what I'm here for, kiddo. Now scoot."

"Yessir!"

His dad was probably going to start laughing again as soon as he was out of the house, but that was fine. He was on a mission, dammit. Before he left he ran his cheek over his dad's temple one last time and snagged his courting gift. Then he was out the door and on the road, driving just above the speed limit so he wouldn't get pulled over. It would suck if his eagerness got him a ticket instead of landing him a mate. It still seemed to take forever to get to Peter's apartment, and yet he was there too soon. He hadn't planned what he was going to say or anything, but he didn't let that stop him.

If he paused, if he slowed down enough to think, then he was going to lose all his nerve. It would all be a waste, because if he turned back now he might never find the courage to try again. And anyway Peter was sure to have heard his jeep pull up - Roscoe had a very distinct sound that he could finally hear - so if he ran his wolf would know what a coward he was. No one wanted to be the mate of a coward, so he needed to suck it up and rush forward headlong before he talked himself out of it.

Or into a panic attack, which was still a real possibility.

He wasn't too ashamed to sprint to the door of Peter's swanky apartment building after pretty much falling out of his jeep. Too wired to wait for the elevator, Stiles headed right for the stairs and jogged up them until he'd reached the fifth floor.

_Why not the penthouse?_ he'd asked once. _You seem like a penthouse kind of guy._.

_Everyone wants to know who lives in the penthouse. People who live in penthouses are interesting, Stiles. And while I certainly am that, I don't need too many people knowing it. You never hear stories about people who live on the fifth floor, do you? I assure you most Hunters don't either. I like living even more than I enjoy my creature comforts._

Peter - clever, infuriating, sexy Peter - threw open the door as he was running towards it. He had just enough time to take in the alarmed look on the man's face and hear his elevated pulse before he was slamming into the other 'wolf. It wasn't at all what he had planned, but that didn't matter, because all he could smell was _PeterPeterPeter_ and all he could think was _mineminemineminemine_. His nose was buried in the crook of the man's neck as he pressed as close as he could to what he now realized was Peter's bare chest and good God the man was built.

"... Stiles?"

"Hmmm."

He felt more than heard Peter chuckle, the bitter tang of worry fading quickly from his scent. That was good - great, actually - because Peter smelled best when he was being a smug asshole. He allowed the older 'wolf to guide him into his den but refused to lift his nose from the man's neck. That meant Peter was pretty much manhandling him, which was funny because he was pretty sure he was stronger than him now. Not that the Beta couldn't still find a way to beat the shit out of him since the other were was nothing if not cunning and innovative. He was probably weird for finding that kind of hot.

"How are you feeling sweetheart?" The familiar endearment had him sagging even further against Peter, who chuckled into his hair before plopping him down on the kitchen table. "I was getting worried about you."

"That why you ran out in your pjs?" As he was asking the question, Peter gently deposited him onto the kitchen table but didn't step away. He stayed between Stiles' legs and buried his own nose in his hair He felt it when Peter took a deep breath and got a little zing of pleasure when his scent made the man go almost as boneless as he felt. "Why were you worried, zombie wolf?"

"I wonder." The dry sarcasm in the man's voice was enough to make him laugh. He knew that he should let go of the 'wolf, should _definitely_ stop running his hands all over Peter's shoulders and back and biceps. It was probably inappropriate and he'd really meant to offer the dagger to Peter before this kind of thing happened, but he couldn't help it. Since Peter's hands were moving in a similar pattern over his own upper body Stiles figured he wouldn't put too much energy into trying to contain the urge. "You were only a werewolf for a few days before I gave you Deucalion and now you're an Alpha. No one's seen you since then--"

"Aww, you care about little old me."

"Don't be an idiot. I've always liked you - of course I care. Now. Answer the question, sweetheart. How are you doing?"

He finally lifted his head to be able to look up at Peter. It was instinct to flash his fancy new red eyes, and the immediate answering of the beautiful blue of Peter's soothed the wolf in the back of his mind. There was an acknowledgement there, even if it wasn't Peter submitting to him. Yet. He was sure that if he asked it, the other 'wolf would bare his throat without hesitation.

But that wasn't what he wanted from Peter. Or at least, that wasn't all he wanted.

"It was hard at first," he admitted while looping his legs around Peter's waist. A rumbling noise that wasn't quite a purr vibrated in the man's chest at that, and the sound was both soothing and really fucking sexy. Everything Peter did was sexy. "If I hadn't had dad, I think I probably would have lost it. Especially when Scott came over and demanded I give him my Alpha spark." Peter's protective growl was appreciated but not needed. He would rather have that rumbling back. "Dad kept me from ripping out his spleen. Threatened to shoot him too, so that was nice." He paused, not sure if he wanted the answer to the question that had haunted him since he'd first been Bitten. "Why did you leave?"

Almost immediately he regretted it. Part of that was because of how vulnerable it made him sound, the way it showcased how hurt he'd been by Peter's absence. Mostly though it was the way Peter whined and ducked his head before nosing at the side of his neck. He didn't like the way his mate (no, not mate, not yet) sounded distressed.

"I didn't want to crowd you." Peter sounded smooth and unaffected, the way he always did... but now Stiles could hear the small trip in his heartbeat. He could smell Peter's unhappiness and the bitter curl of guilt. Without thinking about it, he raised his hands and began to card his fingers through the man's hair. In response Peter sighed quietly against his skin and clutched at the back of his shirt.

"You've always crowded me," he teased gently, then ducked his head to breathe Peter in. "And I've never minded it before. I got through it, but if you'd been there it would have been easier. Better."

"Scott wouldn't let any of us go to you." The words seemed to tumble out before Peter could stop them, and he felt the way his wolf winced immediately after. "Sorry sweetheart."

Peter 'I do what I want' Hale had never been stopped by Scott before. Or at least he'd never listened to the Alpha command Scott could put in his voice. It took claws and teeth and a show of strength before Peter would dust himself off and pretend that he'd always intended to do whatever it was that Scott wanted done anyway. There was always, _always_ blood before Peter bent his neck to Scott McCall.

"What did he do to you?"

Peter only shrugged, and his blood began to boil. He had forgiven Scott McCall for a lot of things over the course of their friendship - too many things. For years he had stood by and let the young man that had once been his brother have free rein. He had allowed Scott to hurt his _mate_ without any reprisal and hardly a protest.

_Fuck_ he was a terrible mate. Peter should tell him no.

"Easy sweetheart," the man whispered into his hair. It was only then that he realized he was whimpering and trying to press even closer to Peter, like if he tried hard enough he could crawl under his wolf's skin. "I was only laid up for a few days." The whimpers turned to a growl, and for the first time he was overwhelmed by the need to _fucking kill Scott McCall_ without any guilt or shame to temper his rage. "Shhhh. I'm fine. And I'm hoping that won't be an issue anymore." Peter nuzzled his temple before breathing him in again. "I've got my eye on another Alpha, you see. I'm hoping he'll accept me into his pack."

Warmth spread through him at that declaration. Knowing Peter wanted to be in his pack was... it was pretty fucking great. Killing Scott could wait, because he was nowhere near ready to let go of the moment. He focused instead on tracing his fingers down Peter's spine and taking in the way the man shivered against him. It would be so, so nice to kiss his way from Peter's wonderfully bare shoulder up to his neck and then _bite_. But he hadn't earned that yet so he shoved that urge to one side.

"I brought you something," he told Peter instead, settling his hands low on the man's back, fingers brushing against the waistband of his pajama pants. "I don't know if you'll... I mean you don't have to... I'm pretty sure there were words I was supposed to learn but definitely didn't. Dad is going to laugh his ass off later. Fuck. Uh... so. Having you in my pack would be... fuck. It'd be great. But if you accepted my gift it would be. You know. Everything. I should have looked at that damn book because I'm making a mess of this. Peter--"

His rambling was interrupted by Peter's soft laughter, which once upon a time would have freaked him out. Now though the sound just settled him and made his heart flutter. "What did you bring me Stiles?" There was an edge of eagerness in his wolf's voice, and when Stiles looked up at him, his eyes were glowing a steady blue. "I don't need any special words and I'm sure whatever book you're talking about was full of bullshit. Just let me see what it is sweetheart."

"... I think I left it in the jeep."

Peter's laugh filled the room and his heart, because Peter laughing was just the fucking best. Such a full-throated happy sound rarely left his lips - chuckles or scoffs sure, maybe a few quiet chortles, but a real, loud laugh? Rare and beautiful. Peter didn't laugh like that for anyone else, he was sure of it.

"Is it wrapped in something?"

"Yeah. It's in the box on my passenger's seat. You gonna go get it zombie wolf?"

"Of course. Can't have you wandering off, not when you're just where I want you. I'll be right back."

"No peeking," he insisted as he handed over the keys. Peter only rolled his eyes, which could mean a lot of things. Taking the time to tease all those possibilities out would be a waste. It was better to ignore it and take the opportunity to snoop around with his new super-nose once Peter had left the apartment.

The whole place smelled like spice, musk, and _home_. Rolling around on the couch to make sure those scents ended up layered over his own was an idea, but he had an even better one. He followed his nose to Peter's bedroom where the man's scent was most concentrated. There were tantalizing hints of other smells there too, ones that made him want to pin his wolf against the door and fuck him senseless, or have Peter do the same to him. He wanted so bad it ached, but he wanted other things too. Things like warm hugs, shared coffee in the morning, teasing banter that sprung from entwining their lives together until they were inseparable. He wanted all the little fights that ended in making up, wanted to see Peter not only laughing and smiling but also vulnerable and unsure. Stiles wanted Peter to see him that way too, even when he'd die before letting anyone else see his weaker moments.

He wanted everything.

For the moment he settled for opening one of Peter's drawers to dig out one of the man's ridiculous v-necks. Bypassing the bed was a struggle, but he managed by focusing on what he could have. What he could have was Peter’s softest shirt, which felt almost like velvet against his skin and wrapped him up in the man’s scent. He wanted to tuck his own shirt under his wolf’s pillow but didn’t quite dare. Draping it on Peter’s bed was another matter, one that was almost as easy as breathing. Immediately he felt more settled and secure than he had since waking up to realize there was a wolf under his skin.

Instinct. It all boiled down to instinct. That was his story and he was absolutely sticking to it if Peter got mad at him.

Even if the guy did get mad he was keeping the shirt.

The beer that Peter kept stocked in the fridge was for him - it was his brand, the kind nobody else drank. It was there for research binges, or the times when one of them was hurt enough that they both needed to be together more than they needed space. According to the other ‘wolf it was shitty enough that adding that bit of wolfsbane to make it potent wasn’t worth it. Clearly Peter was talking out his ass though; it tasted just fine even to his newly enhanced taste buds. The way it was always there in the fridge even though Peter hated it meant something, had always meant something. He just hoped - fuck how he hoped - that it meant what he wanted it to mean.

To his credit Peter only stared for a few heartbeats after walking in to find him on the couch and sipping one of those beers. Then he stepped forward and carefully settled the box on the coffee table before perching next to it. Then there was more staring, though it was less nonplussed and more heated. Words came to mind only to get stuck in his throat and then dissolve, because what was he supposed to say? What did you tell a guy you'd had a crush on since an awkward fear boner at sixteen that shouldn't have meant a damn thing?

Hell, his attraction to Peter still hadn't meant anything for a good long while even after his return from the dead. The older 'wolf had been on his radar, but with the regular horror show that was Beacon Hills he hadn't had time to really think about it. The way Peter could be an absolute dick was part of that too. During the disaster of his possession by the Nogitsune he had briefly sat up and really took notice, but then came that fucking list and then Kate, Eichan and the Dread Doctors. It was during the Wild Hunt that idle lust had given way to actual feelings.

Feelings he'd ignored because of all their shared history. Because of Scott. Because he'd been too afraid to just admit who and what he wanted.

If he was going to be the kind of Alpha this territory needed... fear needed to take a backseat. He could do it, he knew he could, Things would go even better if he had a capable, knowledgeable mate at his side. His whole life would be amazing if that partner could be _Peter_. So he needed to find the fucking words before Peter wised up and kicked him out without even seeing the gift he'd been slaving over.

"I would have gotten here eventually, I think." Probably a bad way to start, but Peter was still watching him intently and the words were flowing, so it was fine. "Once I decided to stay in Beacon Hills I was always headed here. To you. It was just... when I was the scrawny human it was easier for everything else to get in the way, you know? Instincts aren't as strong when you don't have a wolf inside howling too loud for you to ignore them."

"Get to the point, sweetheart."

"I'm _trying_ , asshole. Look. I'm pretty sure I've been in love with you for ye--" He was cut off when Peter surged forward and captured his mouth in a deep, nearly desperate kiss. Pressed back against the couch as he was, the best he could do was hold on to Peter and try to calm the man by kissing back. Peter's heart was beating double-time - he could hear it just over the pounding of his own. One of his hands went to the back of the man's head, cradling it gently while the other soothed up and down his back. When he didn't pull away or push Peter back, the kiss slowly shifted to something softer and sweeter.

When it eventually trailed off, they were left breathing each other's air with their foreheads pressed together. Peter kept his eyes closed long after it had ended, letting Stiles take in the moment. The scent of lust was in the air, but mingled alongside it was relief and happiness, just a touch of wistfulness and the smallest hint of anxiety.

"Peter?"

It was almost a plea, and it was immediately met by a tender kiss that lasted only moments. Then Peter pulled away completely and sat back on the coffee table, limbs loose and relaxed in a way they almost never were. Stiles had never seen him so at ease except for those few early mornings he'd left the man's house after a healing sleep. It was a good look on him, one made even better knowing that he was probably the only one Peter would let see him this way.

"Obviously the feeling is mutual, sweetheart. I've been waiting for you to realize-- but that doesn't matter." Suddenly Peter's eyes went that beautiful glowing blue and again his bled red in answer. This time they both stayed that way, and after a moment a smile that wasn't quite mocking curved Peter's lips. "What's in the box Alpha?"

_Fuck_ but that word coming from Peter was almost obscene. At the very least it had his cock swelling, but it was totally not the time for that because they had business - important business! - to get through before he could give in to his libido.

Beneath that was the smug pleasure that Peter had called him Alpha so easily. And he was - he could feel that now. That simple acknowledgement had already forged a pack bond between them, like it had been waiting for an excuse to snap into place. No matter what happened next, they were pack. If Peter did the unthinkable and said 'no' it would hurt like hell and make things awkward for a while, but it wouldn't change that fundamental fact.

They were pack and Peter was already his.

"A token of my esteem. More than that really. I want... fuck. I'm so good at talking but I don't know... should have read the book even if it was bullshit - might have given me some ideas. Uhm. So look. Deaton is a shady fuck," Peter agreed by growling, though he otherwise stayed silent. "But I called him after I'd settled a bit because, you know, I couldn't go to Scott and not only because he was being a complete prick about it all. There was all this stuff that I was feeling and... and fuck I wanted _you_ but most of my feelings were about you and I didn't know how to... anyway. Deaton told me about, y'know. Courting. Werewolf courting. God I hope he wasn't full of bullshit too."

"Deaton is well aware of werewolf rituals," Peter said quietly. Though his voice was smooth, his scent was all eager, smug pleasure. Stiles also noticed that his fingers were shaking as he drew the box into his lap. "I'm sure what he told you was true. So this is... Stiles." His voice was unusually serious then, completely devoid of all his customary sarcasm and bite. "Whatever you've been feeling, I assure you I've been feeling it for much longer. This can't be a joke or a whim. I couldn't--"

This time he was the one who leaned forward, though it wasn't to drag Peter into a kiss. He did press his mouth to the man's temple briefly though before running the tip of his nose down the side of his face. Peter's breath caught audibly at the delicate, intimate scenting, then whined when Stiles continued down his jaw and then to his neck. He finally gave into the urge to bite down, though not as hard as he wanted, and Peter moaned before going limp.

"Nothing about this is a whim, you idiot." There was great satisfaction to be found in the way Peter squirmed as he licked over the patch of flesh he'd bitten. Better still was the way that red mark _stayed_. He was an Alpha and he would be able to mark Peter as his in a way that didn't fade minutes later. He smiled at the knowledge as he pulled back to look into the man's eyes. "I spent weeks making it for you. I fought pixies again to get what I needed. _Pixies_ Peter. For you. Open the box."

Peter held his gaze a moment, then dropped his eyes to the box. His fingers still held that light tremor as he slid the top off, tipping it as he did so that he could clearly see what was inside. When he had, Peter's mouth dropped open slightly at the same time as the lid hit the floor. That hand went to the knife, which Stiles was very aware had turned out damn near perfect.

The bone gleamed pure white in the light of Peter's apartment while the steel rippled with blue if angled just right. The blade was sharp enough to cut through even the toughest creatures they'd gone up against in Beacon Hills - just because Peter would probably always prefer his claws was no reason to take shortcuts. While the half-inch next that sharp edge was clear on either side, the rest of the blade was covered in an elaborate design of runes and other scrollwork. It was beautiful and deadly the same way Peter was, because those were two of the things that Stiles loved about him. Peter ran one claw along some of the lines that he'd worked so hard to work into the metal, a labor of sweat and blood and tears because Peter deserved everything he had to give.

When their eyes met again, he was surprised to see that Peter's looked wet, like he might actually start to cry. He quickly leaned in to press kisses underneath those blue, blue eyes and then pressed more to the corners of his mouth. Soon they were exchanging sweet, clinging kisses with the box trapped between them. It was all so much... softer than he had expected and he was kind of loving it. A lot.

"So?" he whispered when they had stopped for breath and drink in each other's scents. "I want you as my mate, Peter. As my equal and my everything and... I know I'm not supposed to press for an answer but--"

"Yes," Peter answered, voice just as quiet but still full of feeling. "How could it have been anything but a yes? I didn't even need a gift, but _Stiles_. It's beautiful. And you fought pixies? You said you would never go up against them again."

"I'm not a blacksmith - had to get the blade somewhere. The favor they wanted was to kill some pixies and since it was _for you_ \--" Another kiss, this one far more demanding. Stiles sank into it with pleasure, hardly noticing when Peter put the box to one side. The only reason he did was because Peter than shifted them both to the couch and pinned Stiles beneath him, still kissing him senseless. God, it was so good, even better than he'd imagined, and... and...

He tore his mouth from Peter's, panting for breath as he gripped the man's wrists. Peter's hands had been going for the button of his pants, which was great but also-- "Aren't we supposed to wait?"

"... what?"

"That's only the first gift. I have like, three more before we're even supposed to-- what? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Idiot." Peter softened the insult with a smile and another kiss, but he didn't move away even an inch otherwise. "My gift was the first, for one thing. Not quite as lovely as this, of course, but..." He trailed off, looking uncertain for just a moment. "I only ever wanted to be an Alpha, Stiles. My whole childhood, I fought desperately to be considered more worthy than perfect, golden Talia. I wasn't. Then the fire happened and I got my wish, and I... did not do half as well as I thought I would."

"To be fair you were at least half feral and mostly trying to get revenge."

"There was that. Still. Even after that I craved to have that power again, wanted so badly to be an Alpha so I wouldn't have to submit to anyone else. Derek was... less than ideal but bearable. It's nearly killed me to submit to McCall but I did it, always looking for a way to take back an Alpha spark so I wouldn't have to bare my neck to anyone ever again."

"So why--"

"If there was ever anyone I would be willing to have as an Alpha Stiles, it's you."

The truth of the statement rang in Peter's voice and through their bond, which seemed to be deepening every moment. Peter had given away that power to _him_ , had chosen him even before Stiles could know what that really meant. While he'd been agonizing over whether or not the man would say yes, Peter had already begun the courting.

"It seemed an appropriate first step. I thought I would have to wait months, if not years before I could get you to say yes. I planned it out and I've already got more gifts, of course. I can give them to you now, if you'd like."

"No!" He grabbed Peter's hips, using a bit of his Alpha strength to keep the man from rolling off of him. "Nope. Absolutely not. Werewolf rituals aside, we're both on the same page and saying yes, so. Commence sexy times!"

Peter's laughter was infinitely better when he could feel his joy - _his mate's_ joy - pulsing along their bond.


End file.
